Still life without you
The cupboard closes quietly as
it settles into place, a sigh of capture
intended. As reassuring as
a seatbelt sliding around me.
The old war-cupboard would still
be resounding, an echo of slams
descending from distant headlands,
the guns, my fingerprints everywhere.
The cupboard sits as silent as an
absence, a gap that exclaims,
remember I am still paused,
waiting in anticipation for more.